Leonor Scliar-Cabral é doutora em Linguística pela Universidade de São Paulo e pós-doutorada pela Universidade de Montreal Professor Emérita da UFSC. Em 1991, ela se tornou presidente da Sociedade Internacional de Psicolinguística Aplicada e atualmente é membro honorário. Foi presidente da União Brasileira de Escritores (1995-1997) e presidiu a ABRALIN, durante o biênio 1997-1999. Pertence ao Conselho Editorial: Revista Internacional de Psicolinguística, Cadernos de Estudos Linguísticos, Letras de Hoje (fundadora), Revista ABRALIN entre outros. Pesquisadora do CNPq desde a década de 1970, coordena o Grupo de Pesquisa em Produtividade Linguística Emergente, alimentando a base de dados mundial CHILDES e os projetos “Ler & Ser: Combatendo o Analfabetismo Funcional” e Cátedra UNESCO MECEAL da UFSC. Junto com dezenas de artigos publicados no Brasil e no exterior estão seus livros: Introdução à Lingüística; Introdução à Psicolinguística (1990); Romances e canções sefarditas – séculos XV a XX (1990); Memórias de Sefarad (1994); Do senectute erotica (1998); Poesia Espanhola da Idade de Ouro (1998); “O outro, o mesmo” (In JL Borges, Obras completas, (1999); Cruz e Sousa, o Poeta do Exílio, versão poética para os franceses com M.-H. Torres das Lendas do Filme de Sylvio Back (2000); Princípios do sistema do alfabeto português e Guia Prático de Alfabetização (2003), The Sun Fell in Guaíba (2006); com CR Caldas-Coulthard; Unraveling Psycholinguistics: Basic Concepts (2008); Sagração da Alfabeto (2009); Psycholinguistics: Desafios Científicos e Tecnológicos (2010). Foi indicada como finalista do Prêmio Jabuti 2010, na Categoria Poesia, pela obra Consagrando o Alfabeto.
Leonor Scliar-Cabral holds a PhD in Linguistics from University of São Paulo and a postdoctoral degree from the University of Montréal Professor Emeritus, UFSC. In 1991, she became President of the International Society of Applied Psycholinguistics and is currently an Honorary Member. She was president of the Brazilian Union of Writers (1995-1997) and presided over ABRALIN, during the biennium 1997-1999. She belongs to the Editorial Board: International Journal of Psycholinguistics, Cadernos de Estudos Linguísticos, Letras de Hoje (founder), ABRALIN Magazine among others. Researcher at CNPq since the 1970s, she coordinates the Emerging Linguistic Productivity Research Group, feeding the world database CHILDES and the projects “Ler & Ser: Combating Functional Illiteracy” and UNESCO MECEAL Chair at UFSC. Along with dozens of papers published in Brazil and abroad are her books: Introduction to Linguistics; Introduction to Psycholinguistics (1990); Sephardic Romances and Songs – XV to XX Century (1990); Memories of Sefarad (1994); Of senectute erotica (1998); Spanish Poetry of the Golden Age (1998); “The other, the same” (In J.L. Borges, Complete Works, (1999); Cruz e Sousa, the Poet of Exile, poetic version for the French with M.-H. Torres of the Legends of the Film of Sylvio Back (2000); Principles of the Portuguese Alphabet system and Practical Guide to Literacy (2003), O sol caía in Guaíba (2006); with C. R. Caldas-Coulthard; Unraveling Psycholinguistics: Basic Concepts (2008); Sagração da Alfabeto (2009); Psycholinguistics Scientific and Technological Challenges (2010). She was nominated as a finalist for the 2010 Jabuti Prize, in the Poetry Category, for the work Consagrando o Alfabeto.
Diana Wang nació en Polonia en 1945, hija de sobrevivientes de la Shoá. Llegó a la Argentina en 1947. Psicoterapeuta especializada en terapia de pareja (práctica privada). Escritora y conferencista. Hasta 2018: Desde “Generaciones de la Shoá”: realizó una constante labor en difusión y educación. Charlas, conferencias, seminarios en la Argentina y el exterior, en instituciones de educación formal e informal. Produjeron material educativo sobre las variadas temáticas de la Shoá, publican los Cuadernos de la Shoá y han generado el “Proyecto Aprendiz” para mantener viva la memoria oral de la Shoá. Integran el capítulo argentino de la IHRA (International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance). . Desde 2018 miembro del Consejo de Administración del Museo del Holocausto de Buenos Aires. Continúan los proyectos de “Generaciones de la Shoá” en Argentina.
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Diana Wang was born in Poland in 1945, the daughter of survivors of the Shoah. She arrived in Argentina in 1947. Psychotherapist specializing in couples therapy (private practice). Writer and lecturer. Until 2018: with the “Generations of the Shoah” (Holocaust): worked dissemination and education. Talks, conferences, seminars in Argentina and abroad, in formal and informal educational institutions. Her groups produced educational material on the various themes of the Shoah, published the Cuadernos de la Shoá (Shoah Notebooks) and generated the “Apprentice Project” to keep the oral memory of the Shoah alive. They are part of the Argentine chapter of Integran el capítulo argentino de la IHRA (International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance.) Since 2018, Diana Wang is a member of the Board of Directors of the Museum of the Holocaust of Buenos Aires. The “Generations of the Shoah” projects continue in Argentina.
Sobrevivientes de la Shoá y sus descendientes en un trayecto de reconstrucción.
Niños de la Shoá. Contar lo vivido, incluirlo en el contexto específico, volver a mirarse, ubicarse en una nueva perspectiva y aprender de las propias experiencias, es lo que los sobrevivientes de la Shoá y sus descendientes hemos encontrado desde que comenzamos a reunirnos. Nos recolectamos con la cadena de nuestro linaje familiar, aprendimos los unos de los otros y fuimos reconstruyendo nuestros pasados con nuevas piezas que respondían a oscuros interrogantes y aprendiendo lecciones útiles para el presente y el futuro.
Nos conocimos y comenzamos a reunirnos en 1997. Nos contamos nuestras historias y descubrimos con sorpresa cómo se parecían y cuántas cosas que creímos nos pasaban solo a nosotros eran compartidas por los demás.
Empezamos a ser “Niños de la Shoá” porque casi todos habían sido muy chicos en aquel momento. Algunos, como yo misma, aunque nacimos poco después, vimos que nuestras historias también tenían puntos en común. Los nacidos después de 1940 casi no tenían recuerdos y sus memorias debían ser indagadas y reconstruidas. También los que nacimos una vez terminada la Shoá buscábamos en nuestros pasados familiares los eslabones que nos faltaban para reconstruir la cadena con nuestros padres y abuelos. Suelo decir que lo más importante que me pasó en la vida pasó antes de que yo naciera. Lo “más importante” era lo que nos unía y lo que constituía un nido cariñoso en donde encontrar las claves que nos faltaban. Todos tenemos una relación íntima y personal con la Shoá y el compartirla nos regaló una nueva pertenencia, nos sentíamos una familia.
Generaciones de la Shoá. En 2004 emprendimos una gran aventura, el encuentro internacional que llamamos De Cara al Futuro con la asistencia de sobrevivientes, hijos, nietos, parientes, docentes, historiadores y personalidades de la cultura de varios países. Este evento consolidó nuestra asociación que se formalizó y pasó a ser “Generaciones de la Shoá” en Argentina.
Generaciones fue una institución muy particular en el contexto de las organizaciones judías locales, porque estaba integrada por muchas mujeres. Los hombres que nos acompañaban se sorprendían de que pudiéramos estar hablando de cuatro cosas al mismo tiempo, no solo sobre lo que había que hacer sino también sobre el estado de salud de cada uno, qué hija está embarazada o qué nieto tuvo un éxito en la escuela o mucha fiebre la noche anterior.
Una institución diferente. Claramente inventamos un modo particular distinto de los modelos usuales de las organizaciones judías locales. No había diferencia entre la comisión directiva que pensaba y decidía y quienes ejecutaban lo decidido. Los que integrábamos la Comité Directiva estábamos en todas las otras áreas: discutíamos, pensábamos, firmábamos cheques y, cuando hacía falta, tomábamos una escoba y barríamos el piso. Mientras generábamos materiales educativos bajábamos a abrir la puerta, cuando inventábamos proyectos innovadores estábamos también atentos a que no faltara el café ni el té ni el mate ni el edulcorante ni las galletitas. Todos voluntarios, todos llevando adelante una misión muy significativa, estábamos en nuestra casa con nuestra familia.
Eran reuniones fértiles, con un clima tan amable que daba gusto estar allí. Pero no sólo creábamos y difundíamos materiales pedagógicos, también celebrábamos las fechas de nuestra tradición judía, festejábamos los cumpleaños, nos acompañábamos en las tristezas y nos alegrábamos con las alegrías… constituíamos una impensada nueva red entrañables, tal vez una compensación afectiva por lo que algunas de nosotros nos había faltado en nuestras infancias.
Aprendimos de nuestros padres y sobrevivientes, a transformar la tragedia en una filosofía que privilegia la vida y le da sentido, contando hasta con alegría quiénes éramos y lo que habíamos aprendido. Participamos intensamente en redes sociales y reaccionamos fuertemente ante la utilización de la Shoá para fines ajenos a ella, los lugares comunes y las mentiras. Frases como “nunca más”, “recordar para no repetir”, “para las futuras generaciones”, y tantas otras que escuchamos a diario, nos llevan una y otra vez a explicaciones y desmitificaciones. Rectificamos permanentemente informaciones falsas. Luchamos contra la banalización cuando se menciona al nazismo, a Hitler o a Goebbels, como un sustantivo común, como un insulto. Salimos al cruce de las declaraciones que toman los hechos a la ligera y superficialmente, que los tergiversa e impide revelar y comprender su contenido y alcance. Protestamos ante la espuria comparación entre la Shoá y la política del Estado de Israel señalando que el hoy llamado anti-sionismo es el mismo antisemitismo travestido.
Miembros de Generaciones de la Shoá
Creamos tres proyectos que nos trascenderán: los Cuadernos de la Shoá y el Proyecto Aprendiz I y II.
1.- Cuadernos de la Shoá. Es una publicación destinada a los docentes que precisan una herramienta pedagógica exhaustiva para enseñar sobre el Holocausto. Cada Cuaderno (hay 8 publicados y el 9 a punto de salir) encara un tema específico, los rescatadores, los niños, las mujeres, las resistencias, la shoá inmersa en la segunda guerra, la deshumanización, las trayectorias, los genocidios del siglo XX. Cada número está estructurado alrededor de 3 ejes: la conceptualización, el diseño y la ilustración gráfica y los testimonios personales que transmiten el aspecto humano involucrado.
2.- Proyecto Aprendiz I. Surgió para asegurar que cada una de las historias siga siendo contada de manera presencial y oral. Cuando ya no haya sobrevivientes que cuenten lo vivido, El testimonio vivo permite la interacción, la pregunta y llega directamente a cada oyente porque es entregado con la emoción de quien lo vivió. La idea es capacitar a adultos jóvenes para contar, el día de mañana, la historia de un sobreviviente particular. Durante tres meses de contacto directo, cada Aprendiz conoce, acompaña y conversa con un sobreviviente. No es solo sobre sus vivencias en la Shoá, también sobre su infancia, su vejez, sus ideales, sus alegrías, sus tristezas. El Aprendiz recibe e incorpora esa historia a su propia vida y se compromete a contarla en las siguientes décadas. Son en la actualidad 150 los Aprendices que tienen ahora esta nueva responsabilidad en sus vidas.
La superviviente Lea Zajac (derecha) y su aprendiz Darío Berlinerblau (izquierda), en Buenos Aires
3.- Proyecto Aprendiz II. Creamos una segunda etapa, la capacitación de los Aprendices en la construcción de una charla breve, de hasta 20 minutos, contando la experiencia vivida al lado del sobreviviente y la manera en que fueron atravesados por ella en su propia vida. Cada charla se registra en video que se difunde por las redes sociales. Estas breves charlas tienen un fuerte potencial educativo. En una clase alcanza el tiempo para complementarlo con conceptualizaciones, comentarios, preguntas y actividades pedagógicas que aseguran la comprensión de lo vivido.
Las charlas de estos adultos jóvenes tienen un poderoso efecto sobre quienes las oyen. La anécdota, la presencia viva, la emoción puesta en acto, son vehículos privilegiados para que la memoria se estimule y no se pierda en el olvido.
4. – Museo del Holocausto de Buenos Aires. En 2018 pasamos a integrar el Museo aunando esfuerzos y voluntariados. Aportamos lo que somos y lo que sabemos, los materiales que producimos y los testimonios a escuelas y universidades.
El sobreviviente Rudi Haymann
Dialogamos con distintos grupos, aprendemos y enseñamos, integramos el capítulo argentino de la Alianza Internacional para la memoria del Holocausto, acompañamos con capacitaciones, testimonios y con nuestros sobrevivientes al programa Marcha por la Vida. Participamos de la Red Latinoamericana para la Enseñanza de la Shoá y seguimos con los Cuadernos de la Shoá y con el Proyecto Aprendiz. Este último está en proceso de reactualización dado que el paso del tiempo hizo que ya no contemos con sobrevivientes para hacerlo. Entraremos al escenario los hijos de sobrevivientes con nuestras experiencias de haber crecido con las marcas que la Shoá dejó en nuestros padres; también los nietos, ya más libres del vínculo directo con los sobrevivientes, con una renovada capacidad de pregunta, investigación y memoria.
En síntesis. Durante la Batalla de Inglaterra, Sir Winston Churchill se refirió a quienes lucharon diciendo que “nunca tan pocos habían hecho tanto por tantos”. Somos, como aquel escuadrón de la RAF, un puñado de personas, con pequeñas voces que, antes desde Niños de la Shoá, Generaciones de la Shoá y ahora desde el Museo, crecen y se amplifican, se vuelven fuertes y potentes en su persistencia por mantener viva la memoria de la Shoá, generar conciencia para que el tan ansiado “nunca más” alguna vez lo sea.
Survivors of the Shoah and their descendants in a trajectory of reconstruction
Children of the Shoá. To tell of what was lived, to include it in the chain of family descendance, to understand it according to the specific context, to look at it again, to put it into a new perspective and to learn from one’s own experiences is what the survivors of the Shoah (Holocaust) and their descendants have found to be since we began to meet. We reconnected with the chain of our family lineage; we learned from each other and we went on reconstructing our pasts with new pieces that responded to obscure questions. We learned useful lessons for the present and for the future.
We began to meet regularly in 1997. We told our stories, and with surprise, we discovered how very similar were so many things we had believed happened only to each one of us, and were, in fact, shared with the others.
We began as the “Children of the Shoah,” because almost all of us had been very little at the end of the war. Some, including myself, though born a bit after that, saw that our stories also had points in common. Those born after 1940 have almost no early memories and so their “memories” had to be investigated and reconstructed. Also, those of us who were born after the Shoah sought in our families’ past the links that we lacked to reconstruct the chain of connections to our parents and our grandparents. I often say that most important thing that happened to me in my life, happened before I was born. That “most Important thing” was that which unified us and what became an affectionate nest in which to find the keys that we lacked. We all had an intimate and personal relationship with the Shoah, and sharing it gave us a new sense of belonging. We felt like a family.
A Different Type of Institution. Clearly, we invented a way of doing things that was different from the usual procedures of local Jewish organizations. There was no difference between the Board of was Directors who thought about and made decisions and those who carried out what decided upon. Those of us who were members of the Board, were active in all other areas: we participated discussions, thought, signed checks about programs, and when it was necessary, took a broom and swept the floor. While we generated educational materials, we went down to open the door; while we invented innovative projects, we also made sure that there was no lack of coffee, tea, mate, sweetener and crackers. All volunteers, we all developed a very meaningful mission, we were in our home with our family.
Generations of the Shoah. In 2004, we set out on a great adventure, an international conference that we called “Facing the Future. In attendance were survivors, children, grandchildren, relatives, teachers, historians and cultural figures from several countries. This event strengthened our association. It was formalized and began to be known as the “Generations of the Shoah” in Argentina. “Generations” was a very unusual in the context of local Jewish organization, because it mainly consisted of women. The men who accompanied us were amazed that we were able to be talking about four things at the same time, not only what had to be done, but also the health of each one of us, whose daughter was pregnant or which grandson had done well at school or had a high fever the previous night.
These were fertile meetings, with such a pleasant environment that it was enjoyable to be there. But we didn’t only create and distributed pedagogic materials, we also celebrated the holidays of our Jewish tradition, celebrated birthdays, gave support during unhappy events and were happy about our joys. . .we constituted an unexpected new affective web with close ties, perhaps a compensation for what some of us had lacked during our childhoods.
We learned from our parents and survivors to transform the tragedy into a motive for living. We created a philosophy that valued life and gave it meaning, in the organization as well as in our own lives, recounting, almost with joy, who we were and what we had learned.
We participated intensely in social networks, and we reacted strongly against the use of the Shoah for reasons that were not connected to it. Phrases like “Never again,” “Remember so not to repeat,” “For the future generations” and so many others that we heard every day, brought us back again and again to explanations and demystifications. We permanently rectified false information. We fought against the banalization when Nazism, Hitler or Goebbels were mentioned as a common noun, which we took as an insult. We came out against statements that treated the facts lightly or superficially. We repudiated statements that distorted the facts, for they impeded making the making them known and the understanding of their content and scope. We protested against the spurious comparison of the Shoah with the politics of the State of Israel, pointing that what is now called Anti-Zionism is the same old Anti-Semitism in disguise.
Members of Generations of the Shoah
We created three project that would go beyond what we had accomplished so far: the Cuadernos de la Shoá (Notebooks of the Shoah) and Proyecto Aprendiz I y II (Project Apprentice I and 2 (Project Apprentice I and II).
1. Cuadernos de la Shoá. The Cuadernos are a publication directed at teachers who require an exhaustive pedagogical tool for teaching about the Holocaust. Each Cuaderno (there are now eight published and a nineth about to come out) deals with a specific theme: the rescuers, the children, the women, the resistance, the Shoah as part of the Second World War, the dehumanization, the outcomes, the genocides of the twentieth century. Each book is structured around three central concepts: the definition and explanation of the main ideas, the design of the book and graphic illustrations, the personal testimonies of survivors that transmit the human aspect of those involved.
To Live with Evil: Genocides of the Twentieth Century
2. – Project Apprentice I. Project Apprentice I was developed to assure that each one of the living survivor’s stories continue to be told in an oral and face-to-face way. The living testimony permits interaction and questioning and brings directly to each listener the emotion of someone who lived through it all. The idea is to train young adults to tell in the future, the history of a specific survivor. During three months of direct contact, each Apprentice gets to know, accompanies, converses with the survivor. This conversation treats not only the survivor’s experiences during the Shoah, but also her childhood, her old age, her ideals, her joys, her sorrows. The Apprentice receives and incorporates that story into his or her life and commits to retell it in the coming decades. There are now 150 Apprentices who now have this responsibility.
Survivor Lea Zajac (right) with her apprentice Darío Berlinerblau (left), in Buenos Aires
3. Project Apprentice II. We created a second level to these activities. The Apprentices were trained to develop a short talk, up to twenty minutes in length, in which they described their experiences living along with a survivor and the ways in which their own lives were affected by it. Each talk was recorded on videos that were distributed through social media. These brief talks have a strong potential in education. After showing a video in a single class, there is time left to complement it with concepts, commentaries, questions and pedagogic activities that assure the understanding of what had been lived through.
The talks by these young adults have a strong effect on those who hear them. The anecdote, the living presence, the immediacy of emotion are exceptional vehicles for stimulating memory and not allowing things to be forgotten.
4. Museum of the Holocaust in Buenos Aires. In 2018, Generations of the Shoah became part of the Museum of the Holocaust in Buenos Aires, combining forces and voluntary work. We contributed who we are and what we knew, the materials we produced and the presentations to schools and universities. We learn and we teach.
Conversations with Survivors: The survivor Rudi Haymann is interviewed from Chile
We were in dialogue with different groups. We formed the Argentine chapter of the International Alliance for the Memory of the Holocaust. With training sessions, testimonies, and with our survivors, we supported the March for Life. We participate in the Latin American Network for the Teaching of the Shoah. We continue with the Cuadernos de la Shoá and Proyecto Aprendiz. This activity is in the process of reformulation, given that with the passage of time, we can no longer count on survivors to take part. We will encounter the situation of the children of the survivors like us with our own experience of having grown up with the scars left in our parents and also our grandchildren, now freer from the direct connection with the survivors, with a renewed capacity for questioning, investigation and memory.
In synthesis. During the Battle of Britain, Sir Winston Churchill referred to those who fought, saying that “never have so few done so much for so many.” We are like that squadron of the RAF, a handful of people, with small voices that as the Children of the Shoah, Generations of the Shoah and now from the Museum, grow and become louder, become strong and powerful in their persistence to keep alive the memory of the Shoah, generate consciousness so that the so wished for “Never again” will someday be so.
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Memory in Action
Survivors of the Shoah and their descendants in a trajectory of reconstruction
Children of the Shoah. To tell of what was lived, to include it in the chain of family descendance, to understand it according to the specific context, to look at it again, to put it into a new perspective and to learn from one’s own experiences, all of this is what we are. the survivors of the Shoah (Holocaust) and their descendants have found to be since the very moment in which we began to meet. Additionally, we learned from each other and we went on reconstructing our pasts with new pieces that responded to obscure questions. We learned useful lessons for the present and for the future. We began to meet regularly in 1997. We told our stories, and with surprise, we discovered how very similar were so many things we had believed happened only to each one of us, and were, in fact, shared with the others.
We began as the “Children of the Shoah,” because almost all of us had been very little at the end of the war. Some, including myself, though born a bit after that, saw that our stories also had points in common. Those born after 1940 have almost no early memories and so their “memories” had to be investigated and reconstructed. Also, those of us who were born after the Shoah sought in our families’ past the links that we lacked to reconstruct the chain of connections to our parents and our grandparents. I often say that most important thing that happened to me in my life, happened before I was born. That “most Important thing” was that which unified us and what became an affectionate nest in which to find the keys that we lacked. We all had an intimate and personal relationship with the Shoah, and sharing it gave us a new sense of belonging. We felt like a family.
A Different Type of Institution. Clearly, we invented a way of doing things that was different from the usual procedures of local Jewish organizations. There was no difference between the Board of was Directors who thought about and made decisions and those who carried out what decided upon. Those of us who were members of the Board, were active in all other areas: we participated discussions, thought, signed checks about programs, and when it was necessary, took a broom and swept the floor. While we generated educational materials, we went down to open the door; while we invented innovative projects, we also made sure that there was no lack of coffee, tea, mate, sweetener and crackers. All volunteers, we all developed a very meaningful mission, we were in our home with our family.
Generations of the Shoah. In 2004, we set out on a great adventure, an international conference that we called “Facing the Future. In attendance were survivors, children, grandchildren, relatives, teachers, historians and cultural figures from several countries. This event strengthened our association. It was formalized and began to be known as the “Generations of the Shoah” in Argentina. “Generations” was a very unusual in the context of local Jewish organization, because it mainly consisted of women. The men who accompanied us were amazed that we were able to be talking about four things at the same time, not only what had to be done, but also the health of each one of us, whose daughter was pregnant or which grandson had done well at school or had a high fever the previous night.
These were fertile meetings, with such a pleasant environment that it was enjoyable to be there. But we didn’t only create and distributed pedagogic materials, we also celebrated the holidays of our Jewish tradition, celebrated birthdays, gave support during unhappy events and were happy about our joys. . .we constituted an unexpected new affective web with close ties, perhaps a compensation for what some of us had lacked during our childhoods.
We learned from our parents and survivors to transform the tragedy into a motive for living. We created a philosophy that valued life and gave it meaning, in the organization as well as in our own lives, recounting, almost with joy, who we were and what we had learned.
We participated intensely in social networks, and we reacted strongly against the use of the Shoah for reasons that were not connected to it. Phrases like “Never again,” “Remember so not to repeat,” “For the future generations” and so many others that we heard every day, brought us back again and again to explanations and demystifications. We permanently rectified false information. We fought against the banalization when Nazism, Hitler or Goebbels were mentioned as a common noun, which we took as an insult. We came out against statements that treated the facts lightly or superficially. We repudiated statements that distorted the facts, for they impeded making the making them known and the understanding of their content and scope. We protested against the spurious comparison of the Shoah with the politics of the State of Israel, pointing that what is now called Anti-Zionism is the same old Anti-Semitism in disguise.
We created three project that would go beyond what we had accomplished so far: the Cuadernos de la Shoá (Notebooks of the Shoah) and Proyecto Aprendiz I y II (Project Aprendiz I and 2 (Project Apprendice I and II).
1. Cuadernos de la Shoá. The Cuadernos are a publication directed at teachers who require an exhaustive pedagogical tool for teaching about the Holocaust. Each Cuaderno (there are now eight published and a nineth about to come out) deals with a specific theme: the rescuers, the children, the women, the resistance, the Shoah as part of the Second World War, the dehumanization, the outcomes, the genocides of the twentieth century. Each book is structured around three central concepts: the definition and explanation of the main ideas, the design of the book and graphic illustrations, the personal testimonies of survivors that transmit the human aspect of those involved.
To Live with Evil: Genocides of the Twentieth Century
2. – Project Apprentice I. Project Apprentice I was developed to assure that each one of the living survivor’s stories continue to be told in an oral and face-to-face way. The living testimony permits interaction and questioning and brings directly to each listener the emotion of someone who lived through it all. The idea is to train young adults to tell in the future, the history of a specific survivor. During three months of direct contact, each Apprentice gets to know, accompanies, converses with the survivor. This conversation treats not only the survivor’s experiences during the Shoah, but also her childhood, her old age, her ideals, her joys, her sorrows. The Apprentice receives and incorporates that story into his or her life and commits to retell it in the coming decades. There are now 150 Apprentices who now have this responsibility.
Project Apprentice II
La superviviente Lea Zajac (izquierda) y su aprendiz Darío Berlinerblau (derecha), en Buenos Aires
To tell of what was lived, to include it in the chain of family descendance, to understand it according to the specific context, to look at it again, to put it into a new perspective and to learn from one’s own experiences, all of this is what we are. the survivors of the Shoah (Holocaust) and their descendants have found to be since the very moment in which we began to meet. Additionally, we learned from each other and we went on reconstructing our pasts with new pieces that responded to obscure questions. We learned useful lessons for the present and for the future. We began to meet regularly in 1997. We told our stories, and with surprise, we discovered how very similar were so many things we had believed happened only to each one of us, and were, in fact, shared with the others.
3. Project Apprentice II. We created a second level to these activities. The Apprentices were trained to develop a short talk, up to twenty minutes in length, in which they described their experiences living along with a survivor and the ways in which their own lives were affected by it. Each talk was recorded on videos that were distributed through social media. These brief talks have a strong potential in education. After showing a video in a single class, there is time left to complement it with concepts, commentaries, questions and pedagogic activities that assure the understanding of what had been lived through.
The talks by these young adults have a strong effect on those who hear them. The anecdote, the living presence, the immediacy of emotion are exceptional vehicles for stimulating memory and not allowing things to be forgotten.
4. Museum of the Holocaust in Buenos Aires. In 2018, Generations of the Shoah became part of the Museum of the Holocaust in Buenos Aires, combining forces and voluntary work. We contributed who we are and what we knew, the materials we produced and the presentations to schools and universities. We learn and we teach.
We were in dialogue with different groups. We formed the Argentine chapter of the International Alliance for the Memory of the Holocaust. With training sessions, testimonies, and with our survivors, we supported the March for Life. We participate in the Latin American Network for the Teaching of the Shoah. We continue with the Cuadernos de la Shoá and Proyecto Aprendiz. This activity is in the process of reformulation, given that with the passage of time, we can no longer count on survivors to take part. We will encounter the situation of the children of the survivors like us with our own experience of having grown up with the scars left in our parents and also our grandchildren, now freer from the direct connection with the survivors, with a renewed capacity for questioning, investigation and memory.
In synthesis. During the Battle of Britain, Sir Winston Churchill referred to those who fought, saying that “never have so few done so much for so many.” We are like that squadron of the RAF, a handful of people, with small voices that as the Children of the Shoah, Generations of the Shoah and now from the Museum, grow and become louder, become strong and powerful in their persistence to keep alive the memory of the Shoah, generate consciousness so that the so wished for “Never again” will someday be so.
2013 – “Con una piedra en el zapato”, novela testimonial. Escrita en 1996. Recibió la Mención de Honor en el Primer Concurso de Novela de la Editorial Acervo en 1998. Permaneció inédita hasta esta edición en e-book hecha por Amazon.
2012 –“Die versteckten Kinder: Aus dem Holocaust nach Buenos Aires”, edición en alemán de “Los niños escondidos: del Holocausto a Buenos Aires”. La traducción al alemán fue subsidiada por la Cancillería argentina y el libro fue elegido como uno de los que representaría a la Argentina en la Feria del Libro de Frankfurt 2010.
2012. – “Volver”, crónica de viaje escrita en 1995. La versión en e-book es una edición de Bukium.
2007 – “Hijos de la Guerra. La segunda generación de la Shoá”, la continuación de la vida de los que vivieron, sus hijos y cómo fueron procesando el pasado de sus padres, cómo afectó sus vidas y qué caminos les llevó a andar.
2012 | Ministerio de Justicia y DDHH: “La Shoá, los genocidios y crímenes de lesa humanidad: Enseñanzas para los juristas”. Ponencia: “¿Por qué recordar la Shoá en la Argentina?” en la sesión IV del simposio “La política de la memoria”. pág. 144. Versión en pdf
2007 | Eliahu Toker, Ana Weinstein: Nietos y abuelos. Un intenso vínculo. Ediciones Instituto Movilizador de Fondos Cooperativos. Buenos Aires. Caps: “Abuelas y frutillas“, pág. 27 y “La última frontera” pág. 30
2004 | Nélida Boulgourdjian-Toufeksian, Juan Carlos Toufeksian, Carlos Alemian (comp): Análisis de la prácticas genocidas. Actas del IV Encuentro sobre Genocidio. Fundación Siranoush y Boghos Arzoumanian, Buenos Aires. Capítulo Genocidio y memoria: “La segunda generación de sobrevivientes. Su lugar en el escenario del genocidio“, pág.203
2004 | Ricardo Feierstein, Stephen Sadow (comps): Recreando la cultura judeoargentina 2. Literatura y artes plásticas. Editorial Mila, Buenos Aires. “Victimización e identidad. Reflexiones serias a partir de textos humorísticos“, pág 280
2002| Cristina Godoy (comp): Historiografía y Memoria colectiva. Tiempos y territorios. Miño y Dávila, Buenos Aires. Cap:”El mal y su legitimación social“, pág 91.
2002 | Ricardo Feierstein, Stephen Sadow (comps): Recreando la cultura judeoargentina. 1894-2001, en el umbral del segundo siglo. Editorial Mila, Buenos Aires. Cap: “Lo judío en mi obra“, pág. 311
Mauricio Rosencof (1933–), dramaturgo, novelista y poeta uruguayo. Nacido en Florida, Uruguay, se convirtió en uno de los principales escritores y periodistas del país. Fue líder del Movimiento de Liberación Nacional clandestino (Tupamaros), y en 1972 fue detenido por el gobierno militar y mantenido como preso político en completo aislamiento durante más de 11 años. Sus memorias de detenido están compiladas en Memorias del calabozo (1987-1988), de tres volúmenes. Rosencof es un dramaturgo importante en Uruguay. Sus obras Las ranas (1961), La valija (1965), El saco de Antonio (1985) y… y nuestros caballos serán blancos (1985) son clásicos del teatro uruguayo del siglo XX. Sus primeros trabajos consistieron casi exclusivamente en una visión crítica de la sociedad y los procesos políticos uruguayos con especial énfasis en la lucha por la justicia social. Muchos de sus trabajos posteriores al encarcelamiento pueden clasificarse como literatura infantil, como Canciones para alegrar a una niña (1985), Leyendas del abuelo de la tarde (1990) y Los trabajitos de Dios (2001). La novela Las cartas que no llegaron (2000) representa el primer esfuerzo del autor por escribir un texto de temática específicamente judía. La novela es una memoria íntima y personal de su tiempo en la cárcel como un detenido político entrelazado con la conexión de su familia con el Holocausto. Al hacerlo, Rosencof se une a varios autores judíos latinoamericanos que encuentran puntos en común en la persecución de los llamados subversivos, torturados y asesinados en campos de concentración por gobiernos militares neo-fascistas, y judíos asesinados bajo el nazismo europeo.
Mauricio Rosencof (1933– ), Uruguayan playwright, novelist, and poet. Born in Florida, Uruguay, he became one of the country’s leading writers and journalists. He was a leader in the underground National Liberation Movement (Tupamaros), and in 1972 he was detained by the military government and held as a political prisoner in complete isolation for more than 11 years. His memoirs as a detainee are compiled in the three-volume Memorias del calabozo (1987–88). Rosencof is a major dramatist in Uruguay. His works Las ranas (1961), La valija (1965), El saco de Antonio (1985), and … y nuestros caballos serán blancos (1985) are classics of 20th century Uruguayan theater. His early works almost exclusively consisted of a critical view of Uruguayan society and political processes with particular emphasis on the struggle for social justice. Many of his post-incarceration works may be classified as children’s literature, such as Canciones para alegrar a una niña (1985), Leyendas del abuelo de la tarde (1990), and Los trabajitos de Dios (2001). The novel Las cartas que no llegaron (2000) represents the author’s first effort to write a specifically Jewish-themed text. The novel is an intimate, personal memoir of his time spent imprisoned as a political detainee interwoven with his family’s connection to the Holocaust. In doing so, Rosencof joins a number of Latin American Jewish authors who find common ground in the persecution of so-called subversives, tortured and killed in concentration camps by neo-fascist military governments, and Jews murdered under European Nazism.
Vamos, Viejo. Tranquilo. Vamos arriba, Viejo. Vos te bancaste la trinchera de una guerra reglamentaria, corriste, cazaste y destripaste la rata que te había comido la ración y te la reciclaste; vos fuiste un desaparecido, mamá te lloró, era tu novia, casi niña, y todos; y un día volviste y fuiste a la sastrería de Lublin, y te dieron una limosna hasta que documentaste tu carnalidad y lloraron y te diste un baño y te dieron ropa y comiste y volviste a tu puesto de trabajo, meta aguja, nomás. Vamos, Viejo, no te me achiques por esto, vos, que cada vez que me veías en la cama de León pensabas en León, vos, que acompañaste a mamá que desde aquel día nunca más tuvo una sonrisa, vos, papá, nunca supe qué esperabas de mí, qué quenas de mí, que viviera nomás, que fuera, porque ya no había nadie más en tu vida, todo tu bosque familiar talado, incinerado, nada, solo la memoria de los últimos días que te fue llegando en cartas de Pandora que no guardaban en ningún rincón ni el ínfimo huevo de la mariposa de la esperanza. Vamos, Viejo. No te quedes. No te me quedes, te necesito. Aunque más no sea que para que llores en una visita, como aquella, en la que, como en otras, hablaste bajito, como para vos, nomás, porque nunca me dijiste nada, ni un reproche, ni una queja, y recordaste entonces que tu mamá se abrazó a los dos niños, tus sobrinos, chiquitos, a quienes venían a buscar para extraerles sangre, toda la sangre, porque claro, los soldados necesitan, y ella no los quiso soltar ni los niños desprenderse, 7 los SS ucranianos perdieron la paciencia, es lógico, y con los mangos de pico con que guardaban el orden, los callaron, porque gritaban «no… no» y lloraban, y era insoportable y nunca más, para que aprendan. Te necesito para eso, no te me quedes, papá, ahora que volviste a perder territorio, vecinos, canarios, el plátano con clavo, frente a la puerta, donde soleabas el cardenal, no Viejo, vamos arriba. Arriba, Viejo, yo sé que una vuelta dijiste, para vos, siempre para vos, nunca a mí, solo esa frase que es todo y para qué más: «Nunca pensé que mi vejez iba a ser así». Y ahora me dicen que me viste. Que; fuiste con mamá al comedor común del asilo, que no querían, que no querían salir de ese apartamentito limpio, limpito, con dormitorio y baño, con una mesita y un rincón con calentador, que no quieren salir, que quieren estar ahí, que la comida también se reparte, que Walter les trae alitas de pollo o de gallina, más bien de gallina, pero que no quieren salir; pero ese día sí salieron, y la Directora, que es buenísima, les ofreció el lugar que quisieran, pero siempre con otros, y fueron a una mesa donde había otro habitante de la «ciudad de los bastones» que nunca hablaba, que vivía para adentro nomás, de donde no quería salir, como ustedes del cuarto, y allí se sentaron, eran tres en una mesa, y fue cuando se abrió la doble hoja de la puerta transparente y yo entré, y vos te paraste y viste que los buscaba y no los veía y te pusiste pálido, y yo tenía aquel traje azul marino derecho con tres botones que fue el último, y mamá nada y el otro habitante de la mesa nada, sólo yo que entraba y los buscaba y te buscaba y no te veía y vos sí, dicen que pálido, parado como si estuvieras en la cabecera de una larga mesa familiar poblada, y dijiste aquella frase que, por el momento, la voy a guardar, que la guardo para todos los momentos, para siempre, pero que en este párrafo no la voy a pronunciar, y que es la llave, es una llave, una clave de La Palabra, la clave de La Palabra, que tanto los preocupó porque eran racionalistas como yo antes, y claro, te querían, te cuidaban y te llevaron al médico.
Fuerza, mi Viejo. Cuando uno cuenta los naufragios es porque no se ahogó. Fuerza. Hemos navegado mucho, durante muchos años, en los muchos —al cabo de los años— minutos de la visita. La visita fue para vos y para mí, el Mar del Encuentro. Y allí montábamos nuestra propia balsa y meta remar recuerdos. Tu Afuera y mi Más Acá se juntaban en ese mar que separaba dos continentes. En él sí, ahí sí, en esa frontera sí pude estar en vos. Así que estas líneas son, papá, como quien dice, los Cuentos de la Frontera. Y allá en el asilo, papá, todos, tan viejitos. Tan huérfanos, Viejo, tan huérfanos de la vida exterior, huérfanos de vida exterior, todos, allí; aunque a veces el tiempo se detenía en el jardín del fondo y una pareja volvía a ser del mundo, una mirada a través de los lentes, una sonrisa coqueta, y así el del 2 con la del 14 vuelven a ser novios, entre ellos, novios, y hablan con la Directora, que pregunta sobre la seriedad de sus intenciones, y es una historia de amor que culmina en casamiento, con fiesta, y ella de blanco en la sinagoga del Hogar y habrá cambios en los alojamientos porque van a vivir juntos.
Era un acontecimiento. Pero, por lo general, el tiempo seguía de largo y más bien se detenía para llevarse a alguno, como los fue llevando a ustedes, que lo esquivaron «hasta ver al hijo». Yo creo, papá, que los viejos se mueren cuando quieren, por eso vos y mamá, tu «cachivache», como le decías, se lo tomaron con calma y bancaron, aguardaron hasta esa noche, nochecita, cuando mi cuerpo real transpuso las muchas puertas, custodiadas, muy custodiada la primera, que fuera de hora no se entraba; la «ciudad de los bastones» dormía con un ojo abierto, ha pasado tantas veces en tantos lados, nuestros viejitos son sagrados, que nadie los toque, porque ya han sido muy tocados, y sobre todo por vos y mamá, Viejo, porque la Directora recibía llamadas telefónicas, muchas llamadas que nunca te dijeron, «saquen de ahí a esos viejos de mierda, a los padres de ese hijo de puta, los sacan o les ponemos la bomba», y nunca te lo dijeron, y hubo reuniones, sesiones, consultas, «y de aquí no se van», y no se fueron, no los fueron de la última Tule, bendita Raquel y todos aquellos que pusieron más vigilancia, «pero de aquí no se van».
Come on, Old Man. Don’t worry. Let’s go upstairs, Old Man, you put up with the trenches of a real war, you ran, you hunted and gutted the rat that had eaten your rations and you recycled it; you were a disappeared person, mama cried over you, she was the bride, almost a girl, and all that; and one day you returned want went to the tailor shop in Lublin, and they gave you a handout until you gave evidence of your carnality. and they cried and you had a bath and they gave you clothing and you returned to your work seat, you sowed with the needle, nothing else. Let’s go, Old Man, put me down for this, you, every time that you saw me in Leon’s bed, your thought about Leon, you, who accompanied mama, who from that day on, never had a smile on her face, you, papa, I never knew what you wanted from me, what prize from me, that I live, that’s all, that it be so, because there was no longer anything in your life, all your family tree cut down, incinerated, nothing, only the memory of the final days when Pandora’s letters were reaching you, they never kept in any corner, the tiny egg of the daisy of hope. Let’s go, Old Man. Don’t leave. Don’t leave me. I need you. Although it may only that you cry during a visit, like that time, in which, as in the others, you spoke in a very low voice, as for yourself, nothing more, for you never told me anything, not a reproach, not a complaint, and you remembered then that your mother hugged the two children, your cousins, little ones, to whom they came to search for to extract their blood, all their blood, because, of course, the soldiers need it, and she didn’t want to let go and the children be taken away, 7 of the Ukrainian SS lost their patience, as to be expected, and with the sharp-pointed handles with which they kept order, quieted them down, because they were yelling “no. . .no” and they cried and it was unbearable and never again, so they learn. I need you for that. Don’t leave me, now that you are losing territory again, neighbors, canaries, the prick with the nail, in front of the door, where you leave the cardinal in the sun, no Old Man, let’s go upstairs. Up, Old Man, I know that you said something again, for yourself, always for yourself, never to me, only that phrase that is all and for what else: “I never thought that my old age was going to be like this.” And now they tell me that you saw me. That you went with mama to the dining room of the home, that they didn’t want to, that they didn’t want to leave that clean, very clean little apartment, with bedroom and bathroom, with a little table and a corner with the heater, that you didn’t want to leave, that you wanted to be there, that the food was shared too, that Walter brings you wings of chickens and or big hens, more likely hens, that you don’t want to leave, but that day you two did leave, the Madam Director, who is very, very good, offered you any place you desired, but always with others, and you went to a table where there was another resident of “the city of the canes,” who never spoke, who lived inside, no more, from which he didn’t want to leave, like you two from the room, and there you sat down, there were three at the table, and it was when the transparent double-sided door of the dining room opened, and I entered, you stopped, and you saw that I was looking for you and I didn’t see you, and you became pallid, and I was wearing that sea blue suit, straight cut with three buttons that was the latest thing, and mother nothing and the other resident of the table nothing, only I who entered and was looking for you both and for you, papa, they said you were pallid, standing as if at the head of a large populated family table, and you said that phrase, that for the moment I’m going keep, that I keep it for all moments, for all time, but that in this paragraph I won’t pronounce it, that it is the key, it is a key, a special key to the Word, that worried all of you so much, because you were rationalists as I was earlier, and surely they loved you and they took care of you and they took you to see the doctor.
Strength, my Old Man. When you talk of shipwrecks, it’s because you didn’t drown. Strength. We have navigated a great deal, during many years, in the many—at the end of the years—minutes of the visit. The visit was for you and for me, the Sea of Encounter. And there we climbed on our own raft and set off to row memories. You Outside and my Most Here came together in that sea that separates two continents. In it, yes, here, in that frontier, yes I could be with you. So that these lines are, papa, like they say, the Stories of the Frontier. And there, in the asylum, papa, all, so old, So orphan from outside life, all, there, although it happens, time stops in the rear garden, and a couple becomes part of the world again, a glance through the eyeglasses, a coquettish smile, and so the 2 with the one from 14 become sweethearts, between them, sweethearts, and they speak with the Director, who asks about the seriousness of their intentions, and it is a love story that ends in a marriage, with a party, she in white in the Synagogue of the Home, and there will be changes in the lodging arrangements, because they are going to live together. It was an event. But, generally, time continued to be long and likely was stopping to carry someone along, like it was carrying you two, that you avoid “even seeing your son.” I believe, papa, the old die when they want to, and so you and mama, your “trinket,” as you call her, took it calmly and bore it, waited until that night, dear night, when my real body transposed the many doors, guarded, the first well-guarded, that was when it was not time, I didn’t enter; the “city of the canes” slept with one eye open, it has passed by so many times in so many places, our elderly are sacred, that nobody may touch them, because they have been often touched, and above all you and mama. Old Man, because the Director received many telephone calls, many calls that they never told you about, “take out of here those shitty old people, the parents of this bastard, take them or we will blow them up,” and they never told you, and there were meetings, sessions, consultations,” and “they don’t leave here,” and they didn’t leave, they didn’t send them from the last Refuge, blessed Raquel, and all the others who were more vigilant, “but they don’t leave here.”
Soy artista visual dedicada principalmente a la pintura acrílica, el grabado, la cerámica, y el arte objeto. Mi trabajo investiga la textura y el color. Me interesa el color y la textura, y me motiva la vida cotidiana en las ciudades. He realizado exposiciones privadas en Costa Rica, México, El Salvador y colectivas en diversas partes del mundo, tales como Estados Unidos, Francia, España, Nicaragua, Argentina, Chile y otros. Obra de mi autoría ha sido seleccionada por comités curatoriales para participar en diversas exposiciones y subastas, por ejemplo, los libros de artista “Identidad y Diversidad”, “Art Bra”, “Sumarte”y “Salón Anual ACAV” Cadaqués, Bulgaria. Soy Licenciada en Sociología y en Psicología por la Universidad de Costa Rica. Recientemente, escribo cuentos.
El cuento “Juramento” apareció, en marzo 2020 en la Antología Femenina de Escritura Mágica (Volumen 2) 38 autoras, San José, Costa Rica; Edición Aurelia Dobles.
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I am an visual artist who works principally in acrylic painting, prints, ceramics and art objects. My work investigates texture and color. Color and texture interest me, and I am motivated by everyday life in cities. I have had solo exhibitions in Costa Rica, Mexico, El Salvador and participated in group shows in different parts of the world, such as the USA, France, Spain, Nicaragua and Argentina, My works have been selected by curatorial committees in diverse exhibitions and auctions, for example, the artist’s books “Identity and Diversity”, “Art Bra”, “Sumarte”, “Salón Anual ACAV” Cadaqués, Bulgaria. I have a degree in Sociology and Psicología por la Universidad de Costa Rica. I hold degrees in Sociology and Psychology from the University of Costa Rica. Recently, I’ve been writing short-stories.
The short-story “Juramento” appeared in March, 2020 in Antología Femenina de Escritura Mágica.(Volumen 2) 38 autoras, San José, Costa Rica: Edición Aurelia Dobles.
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Otras entradas de Iliana Piszk/Other posts by Iliana Piszk:
––Mijita, quédese en el comedor un minuto, ya vengo, quiero hablar con usted, de aquí no se mueva.
Buba Sara me miró de reojo y se fue disimulada a buscar algo a su cuarto.
Entre curiosa y sorprendida repasé lo que la abuela guardaba en la cómoda: la caja de galletas con tapa de flores repleta de collares largos y cortos, la bolsa de plástico con frasquitos de medicinas, los pañuelos de seda que se ponía cuando hacía viento o cuando iba a rezar al “Shil” en “Rosh Hashana” y “Yom Kipur”, el pequeño costurero con la almohadita llena de alfileres y botones de todos los tamaños y colores, uno que otro libro de tapa añeja… Hasta me acordé del pedazo de madera falsa que engañaba al ojo, creyendo que hasta ahí llegaba la gaveta, pero que en el fondo escondía una de sus múltiples huacas.
Un día le pregunté:
–– ¿Buba qué guarda ahí?
––Mire mijita -me contestó-, ojalá nunca tengamos que usar nada de esto, pero sepa que estas cosas fueron las que nos salvaron de la pobreza y nos permitieron salir de Polonia para venir hasta acá, tener papeles al día, algunas joyas de oro y un poco de plata escondida… Uno nunca sabe cuándo tiene que salir corriendo. ¿Ve la maleta que está debajo de la cama?… Usted ya tiene casi quince años y tiene que saber estas cosas, pero… Dios libre le cuente a la “shicse” [empleada de la casa] que esto existe; ni ella ni nadie tienen que saber, ¿me oyó?.
La Buba regresó al comedor con una Biblia de tapa gastada entre azul y gris, con el cartón resquebrajado, no tanto por el uso sino porque ella misma le había arrancado de tajo la sección del Nuevo Testamento. De ese gran capítulo solo quedaba como evidencia un tronco de papel rasgado. Entre la última hoja entera y la tapa se formaba un gran hueco que no disimulaba la furia del maltrato que había recibido el pobre ejemplar.
––¡Usted sabe! -exclamó mirándome a los ojos-, los judíos tenemos prohibido leer esa parte. Para nosotros la Torá termina aquí, y ni se le ocurra jamás ir a buscar el otro pedazo en ninguna otra Biblia… ¡Eso no es para usted!
En ese momento ya hablaba fuerte y su expresión transmitía temor, pero de pronto se le congeló la pupila y me dijo:
––No es de esto de lo que quiero hablarle, mijita. ¡Es algo mucho más serio!
¿Qué podía ser más serio que la Torá?, no me lo quería ni imaginar, aunque mi corazón latiendo me anunciaba castigo divino y mi mente volaba por los infiernos encendidos en llamas y colmados de monstruos negros y azules y diablos colorados.
––Ponga su mano derecha encima del libro y vuélvame a ver… Me va a decir la verdad, pero no solo a mí que soy su abuela… Va a jurar ante Dios, Bendito sea su nombre. Tiene que prometer: ¡Por su vida! “Zolijazelibn” ¡que a usted nadie la ha tocado por encima de las rodillas!
Sentí que la sangre se me iba a los pies y un escalofrío me recorrió el cuerpo entero. ¡¿Cómo se dio cuenta?! Si yo subí las escaleras de la casa silbando y entré como si nada, campante y alegre, directito a hacer la tarea…
–– Acuérdese que es prohibido jurar en vano. Tiene que decirlo bien concentrada y desde el corazón. Porque con ese juramento, mentir está prohibido y usted estaría pecando ante Dios que la está viendo. Acuérdese que Él está en todos lados.
Me sentí en una Corte llena de jueces con peluca y policías con pistolas, con ganas de escaparme, lista para recibir el veredicto de “culpable”… “¡A la reja!”… Me acordé del programa de Tres Patines que siempre terminaba con esa frase y que hacía reír a todos. Pensé que ojalá estuviera en la tele…
Por suerte en ese preciso instante me acordé de Otilia, la “shicse” de la casa, la que me cuidaba desde niña y me ayudaba a alistarme para ir al colegio, la que me servía el almuerzo y me enseñaba a bordar en las tardes mientras todos trabajaban, la que me contaba los cuentos de la Llorona y la Segua y me aconsejaba sobre el bien y el mal. Otilia me había explicado que cruzar los dedos lograba anular cualquier juramento, que las palabras que la boca decía no servían de nada, siempre y cuando mantuviera los dedos de la mano izquierda bien cruzados, bien disimulados, donde nadie pudiera verlos –y, por supuesto-, yo le creí.
Miré a la Buba a los ojos desde los míos acuosos, y con mi falta de saliva puse la mano derecha sobre la Torá y mi mano izquierda bien escondida detrás de la espalda… Dije en voz baja, casi entre dientes:
— Por mi vida, Buba. Le juro por Dios que a mí nadie me ha tocado por encima de las rodillas…
“My dear, stay in the dining room for a minute, I’ll be right there, I want to speak with you, don’t move from here.”
Buba Sara looked at me through the corner of her eye and went, hiding her intentions.
Both curious and surprised, I looked over what grandmother kept in the commode: the cracker box with a floral cover, full of long and short, the plastic bag with bottles of medicines, the silk scarfs that she wore when it was windy or went she went to pray at “Shil” during Rosh HaShona and Yom Kippur, the little sewing box with the small cushion full of needles, buttons of all sizes and colors, one or another, one book after another with old covers. . . I even remembered the piece of false wood that tricked the eye, making you believe that the drawer ended there, but in the bottom she hid one of her many hidden guascas, treasures.
One day I asked her”
“Buba, what are you keeping here?
“Look, my dear—, she answered me, “Let’s hope that we never need to use any of this, but you should know that these things saved us from poverty and allowed us to leave Poland to come here, to have our papers up to date, some jewels of gold and a little silver hidden. . . You never know when you have to leave on the run. Do you see that suitcase that is under the bed?. . .You are already fifteen years old and you have to know these things, but. . . God forbid that anyone tell the “shikse” (the household employee) that this exists, no her or anyone else should know, do you hear me?”
Grandmother returned to the kitchen with a Bible with a well-worn cover, between blue and gray in color, of cardboard broken not so much by use but because she herself had cut away the New Testament. From that large chapter, the only evidence that remained was a core of torn paper. Between the last complete page and the cover formed a large gap that didn’t hide the furious mistreatment that the poor copy had received.
“You know!” she exclaimed, looking me in the eyes, “we Jews are prohibited from reading that part. For us, the Torah ends her, and don’t let it ever occur to you to go looking for the other piece in any other Bible.. . .That is not for you!
At that moment, she was already speaking loudly and her expression transmitted fear, but suddenly, the pupil of her eye became cold and she said to me:
“No, this is not what I want to speak to you about, my dearest. It is something much more serious.”
What could be more serious than the Torah? I didn’t even want to imagine, although my beating heart was announcing divine punishment to me and my mind flew through the hells, burning in flames and filled with blue and black monsters and red devils.
“Put your right hand on top of the book and then look at me. . .You are going to tell the truth, but not only to me, your grandmother. . . You are going to swear before God, blessed be his name. You have promise: On your life! “Zlichzelibn: that no one has touched you above the knees!”
I felt that my blood went to my feel and a shiver went through my entire body. How did she guess? If I climbed the stars of the house, whistling and I entered as of nothing had happened, relaxed and happy, and went directly to do my homework. . .
“Remember that it is prohibited to swear in vain. You have to say it with concentration and from your heart. Because with this oath, lying is prohibited and you would be sinning before God who is watching you. Remember that He is everywhere.”
I felt myself to be in a Court full of judges with wigs and policemen with pistols, wanting to escape, ready to receive the verdict of “guilty”.. “To prison.” I remembered the programs of the ‘Three Stooges” that always ended with that phrase and that made everyone laugh. I thought that I wished I were on television.
Fortunately, at that precise moment, I remembered Otilia, the “shikse” of the house, who took care of me since I was a child and helped me to prepare for high school, the one who served me lunch and taught me to embroider, while everyone was at work, who told me the stories of the Llorona and the Segua and counselled me about good and evil. Otilia had explained to me that crossing your fingers annulled any oath, that the words said by mouth didn’t mean anything, always and when you kept the fingers of your left hand, well-crossed and well-hidden, where nobody could—and of course, I believed her.
I looked at Buba in the eyes with my watery eyes and with a lack of saliva in my mouth, I put my right hand on the Torah, and my left hand well-hidden behind my back. . . I said in a low voice, almost between my teeth: “On my life, Buba, I swear by God that nobody has touched me above the knees. . .
